


Hanamaki and Matsukawa (Matsukawa and Hanamaki)

by levyovochka



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Iwaizumi’s had enough, Kunimi and Kindaichi is innocent, M/M, Matsuhana being lovey-dovey, Oikawa’s at his wit’s end, Warning cusses, Yahaba is a sweet underclassman, broship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levyovochka/pseuds/levyovochka
Summary: It starts with an arm around his neck; with a weight of someone’s head on his shoulder—with the warmth against his back.It was about Matsukawa Issei.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, implied Iwaoi - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 273





	Hanamaki and Matsukawa (Matsukawa and Hanamaki)

**Author's Note:**

> *crying over matsuhana post time skip*

At the start of their third year of high school, Hanamaki got a big revelation regarding life.

No, it’s not about how the world ends nor how his would. It was about how it starts.

 _It_ starts with an arm around his neck; with a weight of someone’s head on his shoulder—with the warmth against his back.

It was about Matsukawa Issei.

Hanamaki was a straight man, and like any other cis hetero man with fragile masculinity would, he’d always got weirded out when his male friends got too close (like Oikawa and his octopus arms, or Iwaizumi but that was just speaking hypothetically because Iwaizumi don’t get close to people, people do).

Though in retrospect, wasn’t all those discomfort just a sign that he’s actually, say, a _little bit_ attracted to men?

But here’s the thing: before all those heavy revelations happened, Hanamaki and Matsukawa was already joined at the hips (not literally because this was before revelations).

Things was just so easy with Matsukawa, he felt close and they were close. And if Oikawa ever made any insinuations about the so-called closeness then Hanamaki wouldn’t realize, because again, _before_ revelations.

  
1.  
It was a pleasantly-sunny noon at the end of spring. Basically a perfect day for having lunch on the school rooftop.

So, despite only knowing each other for, what, three months? Oikawa asked the three other first year Seijoh Volleyball Club members to do just that.

The bizarre thing was, Iwaizumi aside, Oikawa only knew Hanamaki and Matsukawa from getting into the same high school and the same club, so Hanamaki didn’t know what prompted himself to actually get roped into Oikawa’s plan. It’s not like he didn’t have any other friends, okay? As in, the more normal ones who wouldn’t bother going up that many flight of stairs just to eat lunch.

In a hindsight, Hanamaki thought that it might be because of the exciting implication that if he eat lunch on the rooftop, then he’s gonna sound like the school bad boy (flash news: he won’t. Plenty of the students do that.)

When he thought about it, though, it might just be because he approved of Oikawa’s apparent leadership, or maybe because of his curiosity taking over him.

Or _that’s_ the actual start of his gay awakening.

Because let’s be real here. Matsukawa’s an okay guy, yeah? He wasn’t so overwhelmingly pretty like Oikawa is, or deliciously muscly like Iwaizumi is (Hanamaki found out way later that he actually is), but between his tall frame and his adorably curly hair, Hanamaki was smitten already.

At first, he thought it was just a brotherly affection, because Matsukawa is actually the youngest of the four. So, it wasn’t Hanamaki’s fault that he kind of doted on him, okay?

“Why are you feeding him like that?”

Hanamaki blinked at Oikawa, the chopsticks he was holding over his shoulder stopping mid-air. “Uh...?”

They stare at each other. Oikawa’s gaze was so deadpan it physically hurts Hanamaki to see. And beside the tall handsome boy on the door, Iwaizumi made a face.

“What do you mean?” Hanamaki asked back after Matsukawa successfully took a bite from his chopsticks.

It was inarguably such a strange sight: Hanamaki, sitting cross-legged with a bento box and a chopstick in respective hands, with a huge human-sized lump in the shape of one Matsukawa Issei draped over his back circling his long arms around Hanamaki’s stomach and his chin lolling on his shoulder—munching away in peace.

Oikawa opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hanamaki thought he looks like a fish gasping for air like that. “It’s spring, but looking at you two makes me feel so fucking hot.”

“Don’t get hard in public now, Oikawa-kun.”

Hanamaki snorted at Matsukawa’s words. He held up an open palm for a high five, grinning wider when Matsukawa tapped his palm softly with his. When Matsukawa started nuzzling his neck after, Hanamaki used the still-open palm to ruffle his wild hair. _Damn, they are so soft._

Oikawa breathed a loud, long-suffering sigh and took a seat beside Iwaizumi, who already started eating his bento like he didn’t just see his new friends being ‘weird’ with each other. “You know what,” Oikawa grumbled as he broke his chopsticks with too much force, “ _whatever_.”

“Don’t even bother, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa pouted at Iwaizumi’s words, side-eyeing his childhood friend speed-eating, before sulkily wolfing down his own bento.

It was all peaceful and calm, until Matsukawa opened his mouth wide, silently asking for more food with a questionably adorable ‘Hanamaki, aah’ and then all hell break loose from then on.

Iwaizumi’s confused ‘what the fuck’ was drowned by Oikawa’s screech of “DON’T EVEN BOTHER YOU SAY!?” and an even louder shriek of “ _THIS IS SO DAMN BOTHERSOME, GODDAMMIT_!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa just stared blankly at him, chewing their food in peace.

  
2.  
It was a known fact that Hanamaki likes to put his hands on his pockets, and it was becoming a habit of his that he can’t just suddenly not do that at any time. So, when he wore his jersey that got no pockets in it, he has no other option than to put his hands inside his jersey shorts instead.

It sounded weird, and it did felt weird. But he just liked the warmth it provided. So, what a man have to do to get some warmth?

“I can hold them instead?” Matsukawa offered one day, thick eyebrows going up and down teasingly.

Okay. That was hella tempting, because Matsukawa wasn’t just tall, he was also big in all the right places (like his hands. Right. Hands.), and Hanamaki wondered if they’d feel as warm as they look.

But holding hands just seemed too friendly even for Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s level of friendship ( _brothership_ , Hanamaki corrected himself, _or broship_ ). So in response, Hanamaki just gave him an impassive stare. “And risk making us look like a couple of kindergarteners? No, thanks. That’s Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s role.”

“I HEARD THAT, SHITHEAD!”

  
3.  
It was also a known fact that Hanamaki and Matsukawa was about to be the same size. The younger boy might get a few centimeters on him, but they were still roughly the same size, all things considered.

So what made swapping jersey with Matsukawa felt so good? The sizes are the same, the materials too.

Hanamaki blamed it on the fact that Matsukawa’s shirt felt more comfortably weary, hence more airy and more... perfumy? What the fuck, does Matsukawa even wear cologne?

“Senpai, why are you swapping jerseys?” A sweet underclassman asked him once, in the middle of Hanamaki not-so-subtly nosing on ~~his~~ Matsukawa’s jersey. Wait, that doesn’t sound right, though?

“It’s a battle strategy, Yahaba-kun,” Matsukawa replied from beside him, arms draping around Hanamaki’s proudly-broad shoulder.

Wait.

...beside him?

Since when...?

“Yeah, you do this to get the enemy confused, Yahaba-kun,” Hanamaki added, only a beat too late and thankfully without stuttering, then high-fived Matsukawa who got his hands up in the air already.

From the outside, he might look as calm and nonchalant as he always seemed, but inside, Hanamaki was frantically wishing that Matsukawa didn’t realize him being a creep just a moment ago. But alas, there was something in Matsukawa’s hooded eyes that make Hanamaki feel uneasy.

He flapped the front of ~~his~~ Matsukawa’s jersey then, suddenly feeling hot.

Airy my ass.

Yahaba didn’t comment further on the matter—didn’t even comment that this wasn’t a practice match hence there was no enemies whatsoever—and just left them there without a word.

So much for a sweet underclassman.

  
4.  
In all honesty though, being with Matsukawa was just that easy that Hanamaki never even felt uncomfortable sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, sharing one earphone and discussing the album that just came out.

It was just what friends do, after all.

Though in retrospect, the warm hand resting on his waist and the hot breath fanning against his neck did feel kind of overly-friendly.

Kind of.

But no one commented on it (anymore) so Hanamaki count it as what normal friends do. He’s got a lot of friends, okay? Though none of them were like this, but Hanamaki would almost _always_ make an exception for Matsukawa.

“You’re switching to earphones now? I thought you like headphones better?” Iwaizumi asked Matsukawa once at the rooftop. On mild pleasant days, it finally came to be a habit for the four of them to eat lunch up there once in a while. Just like this sunny day of early autumn in their second year.

“I do.”

Iwaizumi scrunched his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He tried to prod further, “Then why—” before he got cut off by Hanamaki’s loud, drawn out voice.

“Heeey Iwaizumiii! Matsukawaaa! Have you listened to this new album—”

And _that_ , that was when a big epiphany came down to the then seventeen year-old Iwaizumi Hajime. “You know what? I never thought there would come a day when I can understand you, of all people, just by looking.”

Matsukawa laughed openly at that, all giddy and carefree, and Iwaizumi didn’t know if he should be disgusted or be happy for him. “Me neither,” Matsukawa murmured with a shy smile.

Ah, be happy, then, Iwaizumi decided.

“Hey, whatcha talkin’ about?” Hanamaki asked, right before he plopped down on Matsukawa’s lap, looking only the slightest bit territorial.

And yeah? Fuck it, Iwaizumi decided that there was no need to choose. He could be happy and be disgusted at the same time and no one can protest, okay? “A cockroach,” he replied with all his might, suppressing his urge to catapult his friends over the fence. 

Hanamaki’s repulsed ‘‘the fuck?’ got drowned by Matsukawa’s rumbling chortle.

At that, the pinkish brunet let the whole cockroach thing go, because who cares about some infinitesimal being like a cockroach when he’s got Matsukawa’s large hand patting down his hair soothingly?

Hanamaki sighed. Turned out they really felt as warm as they look.

“There, there..”

Hanamaki hummed in contentment, burrowing himself deeper onto Matsukawa’s broad chest. “Hey, Iwaizumi. Where’s Oikawa? Wait. Matsu, why are you trying to soothe me anyway?”

  
5.  
Seijoh Volleyball Club’s third years are like the three musketeers in a sense that they were always together.

Except, there were four of them.

 _Except_ , they _were not_ always together. Because sometimes—like, most of the times—Oikawa would only be seen with Iwaizumi and Hanamaki with Matsukawa (it might have something to do with how Oikawa and Iwaizumi is childhood friends anyway, but those who knows them _knows_ damn well that that wasn’t the case. Not exactly).

On breezy summer days, sometimes Oikawa would refuse to eat lunch at the rooftop because he said that his skin gets sticky and his hair messy.

He claimed that he has to keep his perfect appearance for the sake of his fanclub, but those with eyes knew that he kept getting dumped by his girlfriends not just because of volleyball alone.

(yeah, we’re talking about you, Iwaizumi, you dense fucks both of you).

So, on breezy summer days, it usually was just Hanamaki and Matsukawa (Matsukawa and Hanamaki) there, eating together on the school rooftop, because other students weren’t stupid enough to even bother.

On good days, Hanamaki and Matsukawa (Matsukawa and Hanamaki) would take a nap under the shade and relax under the summer breeze, head on top of each other’s like it wouldn’t make their necks cramping afterwards. But most of the times, it would be Matsukawa’s head on Hanamaki’s shoulder or even his thighs (they were all muscle and no fat but Matsukawa never complains).

Hanamaki though, he would complain about Matsukawa’s head being too big and too heavy, but Matsukawa would just laugh it off like it was nothing. Because it was.

It was nothing to Hanamaki, because...

What even is some neck cricks or leg cramps compared to the sight of Matsukawa scowling and drooling in his sleep?

Yeah, that didn’t sound appealing like, _at all_ , but Hanamaki realized, along the almost three years they had spent together—between all the skinships and cooing they jokingly and subconsciously did—that in the quiet of his every heartbeats, Hanamaki never sees Matsukawa purely as friends, never mind brothers.

Yeah, he fucked up like that.

So who’s to blame that Hanamaki loves the quiet like this? Where it feels like there were only the two of them in this world, together, in _his_ world?

With no one there to see them?

No one giggling bashfully while watching them like they are stripping them down?

No one acting repulsed even though Hanamaki could feel the affection in their eyes?

 _No one_ to see Hanamaki planting a kiss in between Matsukawa’s furrowed eyebrows.

“Cute,” Hanamaki smiled, feeling a weird sense of pride and accomplishment when said eyebrows slowly relaxed.

It didn’t feel too satisfying though. Not when Matsukawa’s seemingly permanent pout was still there marring his face.

Hanamaki stared.

One second, two seconds.

He wondered if he could also kiss the pout away.

  
6.  
It used to be an arm across his shoulder.

Hanamaki didn’t realize, but along the way, the arm started coming down to drape along his waist.

Sometimes, it was just resting there on the small of his back, warm and comforting, but on some weird days when Hanamaki felt a weird tension between them, Matsukawa’s hand would find home on his hips, too close to his ass for comfort but too far to be enough.

 _Fuck_.

  
7.  
“Are they dating?”

Oikawa didn’t meant to eavesdrop on the first years talking, but he’d never peg _The_ Kunimi to be into cheap gossips, and this locker room is a public area anyway, so—

“I mean, he’s kissing his shoulder so it can only mean that, right?”

_Okay?? Kindaichi, what?? Who’s doing what to who??_

“Yeah, _that_ , or just fuck buddies.”

_What the actual fuck Kunimi-chan?? Where did you learn those words??_

“Kunimi, you could’ve said friends with benefit instead, you know?”

_Kindaichi my boy!_

“Nah. _Fuck_ buddies—”

“KUNIMI-CHAN! WHO THE FUCK TAUGHT YOU TO SPEAK LIKE THAT, HUH?! WAS IT IWA-CHAN? MAKKI?? MATTSUN!? I FUCKING KNEW IT! I ALWAYS FUCKING KNOW THAT THEY ARE BAD EXAMPLES FOR THE JUNIORS—”

Oikawa halted his ranting when he heard no answer whatsoever from the newly-joining first years, before looking at the two boys straight in the eyes.

Never mind Kunimi. When even the ever-so-polite Kindaichi looked at Oikawa like he had lost all respect as a captain and a volleyball player to him, Oikawa knew he fucked up.

“Ahem. So... who are you two talking about anyway?” He asked placidly, acting like nothing ever happened (he prayed to God that Iwaizumi would never heard of this). “A classmate? No offense, but I think you’re too young for that, though.”

Kunimi opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again like talking to Oikawa is a waste of time and energy, before deciding to just point to somewhere in the corner of the locker room instead. Eyes totally dead.

“Holy fuck,” is what came out from Oikawa’s mouth when he saw the _spectacle_ welcoming him.

(Oikawa realized then, just from whom did Kunimi pick up all the dirty language from).

“HEY, ASSHOLES—”

  
8.  
“Hey, Matsu,”

“Yes, Hana?” Matsukawa mumbled against Hanamaki’s bare shoulder.

They’ve been like this for a while, standing at one corner in the locker room after practice, just glued together. And ever since Hanamaki got out of his jersey ( _Matsukawa’s_ ), Matsukawa had been subtly—he was _not—_ dropping light kisses on every surface of skin available.

Their position shouldn't have been comfortable at all, with their skin so uncomfortably warm and sticky, but that didn’t deter Matsukawa from back-hugging the slightly shorter man.

Hugging Hanamaki, to Matsukawa, just made him feel so at ease. Like, after some grueling practice that last longer than usual, being this close to Hanamaki felt just right. Like he’s recharging his energy.

Like this is where Matsukawa belongs.

He wondered though, how far could he go until Hanamaki got uncomfortable with him? After all these times, Matsukawa wrapping his arms around Hanamaki’s stomach and his constant nuzzling only made Hanamaki chuckles and ruffles his sweaty hair. Like a dog.

So, like, can he make a hickey maybe? What about biting?

 _That sounds wild_.

But will Hanamaki realize, then? That he don’t want to be treated like a dog? Like a little brother? Like a _friend_?

Matsukawa grimaced. And at that moment—right when Matsukawa opened his mouth to try biting down on Hanamaki’s shoulder—Hanamaki spoke, without any preamble to soften the blow on Matsukawa’s heart:

“Matsu, I think I like you.”

 _Thunk_!

And _that_ was the sound of both Matsukawa’s heart plummeting and his head dropping down on Hanamaki’s shoulder.

All his muscles suddenly went lax (he didn’t even realize that he was getting so tense), and he groaned quietly into the junction of Hanamaki’s smooth neck.

Was it what people call ‘relief’? It didn’t feel as tranquil as Matsukawa would’ve liked though. He still felt his heart beating hard and his hands clamming up. Yet despite everything, it felt like coming home.

It felt like Hanamaki and Matsukawa (Matsukawa and Hanamaki).

“Mm, took you long enough,” Matsukawa said simply. No words of acceptance nor any kind of refusal.

To others, it might sound like Matsukawa was just dismissing him, but the small smile Hanamaki felt blooming softly against his skin is enough of an answer already.

“HEY, ASSHOLES! NO PDA IN FRONT OF THE INNOCENT FIRST YEARS, PRETTY FUCKING PLEASE??”

Kunimi snorted, “ _Innocent_.”


End file.
